It’s that time again here in the US. The time when we stuff our faces and binge and just generally eat much more than we should. It’s a feast for most, that rivals the ideas of the Romans. If you are thankful for everything that you have, or have not, share it.

Why not spend part of your Thanksgiving Day helping out at the local soup kitchen? You could make a lot of people thankful with a few cans of food, or an hour or two of volunteering.

What am I thankful for? Lots of things. Lots of people. For the reader’s here. For my extended family over at Twitter, and my real family right here. I’m thankful that I can talk to the far side of the world on a regular basis. Thanks to everyone who helped out with Twitter Travels this year. Not a one of you has been, or will ever be, forgotten. Thanks to all of the people who are helping with my first book release, even as I write this.

It’s been a strange year, but I wouldn’t change it. With winter, comes change. Are you ready for that fresh start?

What are you thankful for?

-Thanks to all my friends, family, and readers.
-Jack Lhasa
-Yeah, I Listen.

It came up recently in our travels that we wanted to locate the Blues Devil. It occurs to me after finishing up an article on the subject for Twitter Travels, that most people are unaware of the legends and stories related to the Blues Devil.

You see, this goes very far back. As long as can be remembered, great blues musicians have had legends told about them. Legends about how their life hit the lowest of low, the saddest of the sad, the deepest of depressions, and often, they went to the railroad tracks to kill themselves.

While awaiting a train to end the misery of miseries, these men were approached by the Devil, who offered to give them fame and fortune and abilities with music that could be surpassed by no man in their lifetimes, in exchange for their immortal souls. As people are weak, they often agreed.

The part the Devil often forgot to mention in the contracts and pacts is that despite their fame and abilities, these musicians would never lose this deep despair they currently felt. Thus was born the name, The Blues Devil. He is now often sought, and seldom found.

This is just a test. Atlanta coming down on top of my head. Sitting in Sidelines somewhere around Kennesaw State University. We jacked their wi-fi, but it wasn’t as good as it is in this bar. We’re talking to Marion here, he’s a nice old southern gent. Bartenders are very hot here. You should come and give them all your money. This is just an aside. Articles tomorrow. “Atlanta’s Dark UnderBelly” and “Why the Old Drunk is Always Right.”

12:00am 30min break from work. Second round of supplements(Ginseng, anhydrous caffeine(150-200mg)) . Caffeine. I usually start a pot of coffee, or one of several teas at this time.

2:00am to 4:00am – NO WORK unless I’m feeling spry this is my time.

3:00am Snack Time – Don’t let the title fool you. This is the real meal of the day. Last full supplements.

Meal includes Orange Juice, Grapefruit Juice, Milk, and either water, tea or Sprite.

Supplements at this time are Ginseng, 5-HTP(50mg), Aloe Vera(25mg), Aminogen(250mg), Carbogen(200mg).

5:00am Breakfast for dinner. Only the following supplements: Melatonin(3mg), 5-HTP(100mg), Amitriptylin(Rx, 200mg) .

Every three weeks I take Ginseng and Melatonin out of the diet for one week. It’s especially important to take a break from these two, because the effects wear down with time. A week off a month keeps that from happening.

Some days I take a second dose of Ginkgo Biloba with the 3:00am Snack Time.

There you have it. The Schedule of a Rabid American Werewolf. For now.

Anyone in the United States lately, that enjoys TV at all, is probably aware of the Screen Writers Guild(SWG) strike. It’s been going on for several months, keeping us watching reruns.

Well, last week, several nightly shows started to fight back(kinda). Jay Leno, Conan O’Brien, Jon Stewart, and Stephen Colbert have started their nightly shows again, WITHOUT the writers. These guys all started in stand-up comedy or in writing for TV comedy, surely they can still write their own shows. So how’s everyone doing?

First, Jon Stewart, I love you. Please reconsider. You NEED writers. I don’t know why. You are terribly funny. But this is very, very sad.

Conan, we’ll do yours next. You used to write great TV comedy for The Simpsons(among others). You still have it. You are as funny without your writers thanyou were with them. Your show has never been better. Consider maybe some new blood when this SWG is settled.

Jay. Jay. You were great. Now you’re fucking hysterical. You used to do a stand-up show 365 days a year. It shows. You’ve still got it. But then again, you’ve had more experience at this than the others.

Finally, the youngest blood, is Stephen Colbert. You started off BAD. You got better. You’re hanging in better than your buddy Jon, now(maybe give him a hand?). Does seem like you’re using a lot of old clips though. And Papa Bear(Bill O’Reilly) can just fuck off.

Just a thought. Call it social commentary or something neat like that.

This is a true story. A story about my city. Chattanooga. I love it like no other. In this city, it’s rare for someone to say, “I love living here.” Mostly you just hear people talk about leaving. People new to the city often complain that it has a way of sucking you in, so you can’t seem to leave, no matter how hard you try.

I’ve always been here. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I was born here. I’ve spent many summer looking at the stars. I’ve spent many winters watching the city lights grow in number, year by year.

This is a story about disappearing. For such a small city, it’s so easy to disappear. When you’re gone, you’re gone. Most people forget they ever knew you. I don’t forget.

I met Will in the early summer one year, in a local bar. He was an old man to me. That summer, he told me his years numbered 60. I bought him a beer, and loaned him a cigarette, and he told me stories.

He was a Vietnam veteran. He had shrapnel lodged in his leg and chest from his tour of duty. He came home to find that he couldn’t work anymore from the pain. The Veterans Administration moved him into the Social Security Building, gave him a fixed income and a constantly growing addiction to pain medicine. When I met Will, he was taking 120mg of morphine and 80mg of oxycodone a day.

My wife often remembers the first time I introduced her to Will, pleasantly. She could not hear his name over the noise of the bar. After mistakenly calling him something else, he told her, “My name is Will, but you can call me anything but late for supper.”

Always a smile, always a laugh. A man could hardly have a better disposition.

He once told me that a man can’t tell a lie, it’s a lie that tells a man.

Whenever he got his prescriptions filled, he’d sell his morphine and oxycodone to people he trusted. A fixed income and an apartment in the Social Security Building in Chattanooga is just a small step up from homeless.

One night he came to the bar and sold some pills to several people. He had been drinking and taking the medicines himself, and there was a bit of a mix up. When those people figured out they were taking vitamins instead of opiates, he apologized, and promised to fix the issue.

The last time I saw Will, he was leaving the bar to walk home. He had had a few beers, and I had watched him swallow several pills. I never saw Will again. No one I know has.

A disappearance. It happens all the time. How many people will you forget? How many people will vanish from your life without a second thought?

I’ve often told people that the greatest ability of the human mind is that it is able to forget. I sometimes wonder.